


Uneasy Rider

by merry_amelie



Series: Academic Arcadia [34]
Category: Star Wars Episode I: The Phantom Menace
Genre: Alternate Reality, M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2004-10-06
Updated: 2004-10-06
Packaged: 2018-02-04 23:59:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,387
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1798072
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/merry_amelie/pseuds/merry_amelie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Should have taken the Audi.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Uneasy Rider

**Author's Note:**

> Feedback: Is treasured at merryamelie@aol.com (or leave a comment).
> 
> Disclaimer: Mr. Lucas owns everything Star Wars. I'm not making any money.
> 
> For Alex, my friend and beta.

Ian Prentice sat on an intercampus bus, looking at his watch in utter frustration. There were twenty minutes to go before his class, and he needed every last one if he had any chance of making it there on time.

One of the charming facts of life for newly hired professors, besides the early hours, was that they could be assigned courses at any of the four branches of the university. While the English Department's home base was Taton Hall on the Von D'Anakin campus, Ian was also teaching a class on Tarkinton Green.

Ordinarily, he'd have taken the Audi for this hop, but he taught a first period course at Taton and a third on Tarkinton. If he drove, Ian would lose the prime parking spot he had snagged thanks to being here before 8 am. He'd hunt around an over-filled lot, and have to walk half a mile to class, then re-park at Taton, this time a football field away.

It was just not worth it, hence the bus. However, mass transit had its own drawbacks, as he'd been finding out since the semester began. First off, the paper schedule had nothing in common with the times the busses actually showed up. Next, the poor drivers weren't given proper breaks, which led to them catching lunch on the hop, leaving the passengers sitting there for an indeterminate amount of time, which seemed to stretch further towards infinity just when every moment counted the most.

Ian had now been waiting fifteen minutes, so he'd had the opportunity to consider his unfortunate predicament. It was rush hour, the time between periods in which the students only had twenty minutes for an Odyssean commute. The first bus that passed was so full that the driver didn't bother picking up any of the one hundred people waiting at the stop. Ian boarded the second, admirably restraining his impulse to elbow his way in. He had to stand for ten minutes, gamely hanging on to the overhead bar through the stops and starts of heavy traffic. His briefcase perched precariously between his calves, jostling his ankles at every turn. Neon flyers advertising university events fluttered five inches from his face. Then it got worse: an over-solicitous teenager volunteered his seat. Ian fervently hoped it was the combination of jacket, slacks, and briefcase that had spurred the offer.

Quinn frequently mentioned how young Ian looked, especially when they were in bed together, but Ian knew all too well that sometimes the eyes of love needed a check-up.

Currently, he was squeezed into a bench seat meant for two people, with a pair of students flanking him. They were talking over him as if he weren't there, judging by the personal information exchanged. Luckily, their conversation was partially scrambled by the girl on a cell phone across the way. He tried to tune out competing scraps of dating history. Ian's shoes were almost parallel with the seat to give the standees room, his briefcase on his lap, the rubber feet digging into his thighs. A rolling bottle came to rest by his right foot, after painting the floor with streaks of sticky soda. The air conditioning was on full blast, despite it being 58 degrees outside. The boy beside Ian opened a bag of chips, ignoring the clearly posted 'No food or drink' sign, and began shedding crumbs at a prodigious rate. A Walkman three rows back pounded out a drum solo, only slightly muffled by the headphones. Chewing gum almost offset perfume as the unofficial air freshener on board.

Ian sighed inwardly, trying to decide if walking to Tarkinton would be faster than this. A minute after he got off, the bus roared past him, leaves dancing in its wake.

Fortunately, Tarkinton was only about seven minutes away at Ian's brisk clip. Sigh audible this time, Ian strode along, the kinks from the bus ride subsiding with the exercise. His watch, always set a minute fast, showed he was two minutes late to class. Not bad.

The class itself was easy.

After it was over, Ian thought strategy. At breakfast he had mentioned possibly picking up some of Quinn's favorite pecan tarts at an eatery en route, so he got off the bus early to buy the pastries for him. Walking the remaining distance to Taton had to be better than staying on the bus, at any rate. Rain greeted his tenth step as he put his copy of the campus newspaper, the Luke Skysquawker, over his head and dashed to the cafe.

While he stood on line, Ian felt warm fingers cover his shoulder. Knowing that only one hand could feel that good on him, he turned around and smiled at his lover.

"Quinn," Ian said in surprised pleasure.

"Hello, Ian. I remembered your offer this morning, and thought I might find you here." Quinn pointed to a table with an umbrella on the chair beside it, and said, "I'll wait for you over there since I've already ordered."

Ian joined Quinn at the table a few moments later, putting down his cafe mocha and the bag of tarts. "How was your morning?"

"Easier than yours, I'd imagine. Worked in the manuscript room until coming here." Quinn took a sip of his espresso. "What about you?"

"The usual epic journey." Ian's grin was wry. "First time a kid gave me his seat, though."

Although Ian kept his grin in place, Quinn had no problem reading his eyes. "Must've been the briefcase," he said, voice tender as possible in this public place.

"Yeah, that's what I thought," Ian said, stretching his legs out under the table.

"I've been offered a seat many times. You get used to it. At least the younger generation has manners."

"They can see that you can't even stand up straight on the bus."

"I know," Quinn said ruefully. "It pays to be a gymnast -- I never could contort like you do."

Though Quinn painted the picture of innocence, Ian couldn't control the sudden heat in his cheeks. He took a bracing sip of coffee. "Maybe I should drive to Tarkinton after all."

"That won't be necessary. My class isn't until 2:50. I could drop you off to make sure you're not late, then you can return by bus, when it doesn't matter how long it takes. I'd even get back in time to get a decent parking spot, since it's the lunch hour."

"Thanks for the offer, Quinn. I'll think about it." Ian wasn't eager to inconvenience his lover; the man was already courtliness incarnate towards him.

"It's really no trouble, Ian," Quinn said, reading Ian's mind as usual. "I'd even get that delicious banana bread at the salad bar there."

Ian asked, "Have you taught on Tarkinton before?"

"Yes, in my second year at Luke. I was lucky, though; it was my first period class. I'd drive in, have no problem finding a space at that hour, and head back to Taton in time to park within 50 yards of the building."

"Well, there's always next semester," Ian said, ever the optimist. 

"You never know -- we have a campus on Tuscany, clear across the state." Quinn's eyes sparkled from teasing him.

Ian's answering pout couldn't have been less genuine. "Can't believe the Council sits up nights trying to tie my schedule in knots."

Quinn tisked, "Innocent lad. Let me _bus_ your tray. I'm sure you've had just about enough of them today."

Ian groaned. "And you claimed that my sham rock was the worst pun ever. I don't think so."

Quinn only heard Ian's first sentence as he headed for the trash bin, then met Ian at the door of the cafe.

"Let's walk back to Taton," Ian said.

Quinn nodded indulgently, and fell into step beside Ian. The rain had ended while they'd sipped their coffee, so strolling was a pleasure.

Quinn said, "A flyer at the cafe mentioned that there's an Inge play at Hamilton Center, but you might not be interested." He could not hold back a chuckle.

Ian enjoyed having his lover play with him. "Okay, I'll bite. Why wouldn't I want to see it?"

"It's a revival of Bus Stop."

Ian laughed heartily, and started thinking of the busses he would give Quinn when they got home that evening.


End file.
